It’s impossible now to even imagine there being a time when I smoked three to four packs of cigarettes a day. For thirty years I inhaled that disgusting smoke into my lungs and blew it back out again, surely exposing others to those secondhand poisons.
My wife and kids never complained about the layers of smoke and tobacco stench that always permeated every room in the house. They always wanted me to be happy so they dealt with it. But I now wonder how many years I may have taken off their lives by that destructive, disgusting habit of mine.
My big regret is having started smoking as a young teenager. My bigger regret is not having stopped smoking much earlier in life.
And what I really cannot figure out is why I enjoyed it in the first place. Sucking hot, dirty, stinking smoke into my lungs… what’s to enjoy about that?
Makes no sense…